Gruesome Playground Injuries; Animals Out of Paper; Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo

by Rajiv Joseph

  TIGER: Kevin Tighe

  TOM: Glenn Davis

  KEV: Brad Fleischer

  MUSA: Arian Moayed

  UDAY/MAN: Hrach Titizian

  HADIA/IRAQI TEENAGER: Sheila Vand

  IRAQI WOMAN/LEPER (WOMAN 2): Necar Zadegan

  CHARACTERS

  TIGER: big (Tiger wears clothes. Nothing feline about him.)

  TOM: American, early twenties, older and wiser than Kev, unsmiling, tough

  KEV: American, early twenties

  MUSA: Iraqi, thirties

  WOMAN 1: Iraqi

  WOMAN 2: Iraqi

  UDAY: Iraqi, thirties

  HADIA (GIRL): Iraqi teenager

  TIME

  2003

  SETTING

  Baghdad

  NOTE

  Tiger can be any age, although, ideally, he is older, scrappy, past his prime, yet still tough. He can be any race except Middle Eastern. His language is loose, casual; his profanity is second nature.

  There should be no subtitles for the Arabic.

  ACT 1

  Scene 1.

  The Baghdad Zoo, night.

  Two American soldiers standing guard next to a cage with a Bengal tiger.

  The tiger stands like a person and faces and speaks to the audience.

  TIGER: The lions escaped two days ago. Predictably, they got killed in about two hours. Everyone always gives lions so much credit. But I am bigger than them. I am bigger than those motherfuckers.

  TOM: This guy is hungry.

  KEV: Sergeant said they fed him.

  TIGER: They liked to show off the lions here because they had eight.

  TOM: No, he’s hungry.

  TIGER: Eight fucking lions.

  KEV: This place creeps me out. I wanna see some action, not hang around no ghetto-ass zoo with my thumb up my ass.

  TIGER: Which is why they had them in that big outdoor lions’ den. Which is why they all got away.

  TOM: Zoo duty’s seen action three nights last week.

  KEV: Who’s gonna attack a zoo.

  TOM: We’re here. They’ll attack us. And they’ve been stealing shit. Like peacocks.

  TIGER: All eight of them took off as soon as the wall got blown up.

  KEV: I don’t know why they wanna kill us. We’re trying to protect their zoo, you know?

  TIGER: Typical lionlike behavior.

  TOM: We blew the zoo up. Use your head. And these animals are valuable.

  TIGER: Three square meals a day, and they take off.

  KEV: This guy ain’t valuable.

  So let me see it.

  TOM: Again?

  KEV: C’mon, Tommy. Let me see it.

  TOM: I showed you it already.

  KEV: I wanna fire it!

  TOM: You’re not gonna fire anything.

  TIGER: And what happens?

  KEV: Come on, man.

  TOM: It’s not even loaded.

  KEV: You told me you always keep it loaded.

  TIGER: Ka-boom.

  TOM: Well, you’re not gonna fire it anyway.

  TIGER: I mean, it’s the middle of a war. Use your head.

  TOM: How many times you gonna want to see it?

  KEV: It’s badass.

  TIGER: Leo, the head lion—I mean, they were all named fucking Leo—Leo calls out to me just before he takes off, “Hey, Tiger, you gotta come with!”

  KEV: I wrote my brother about it. He said there ain’t no such thing as no gold gun. He said guns can’t be made outta gold.

  The boys hear a sound.

  KEV: What the fuck was that?

  TIGER: I said, Leo, you dumb stupid bastard, they’re killing anything that moves. And Leo—this is right over his head—he yells back, Suit yoursel f! Then he runs off.

  TOM: (picks up his machine gun)

  Halt! Who goes there!

  KEV: (yelling, picking up his gun)

  Who’s there? We’re U.S. Marines!

  TOM: Shut up, Kev.

  (shouts) Advance and be recognized!

  (to Kev) Cover me.

  Tom exits.

  TIGER: I gotta come with. I’m still freaking locked up in here, Leo! What’re you gonna do, steal the keys and let me out? These lions were dumb as rocks. They think because they can suddenly escape, everyone else can too.

  Tom enters.

  TOM: It was that fucking ostrich.

  KEV: You shoulda shot it.

  TOM: I’m not gonna kill an ostrich.

  KEV: Fuck that, man. I don’t give a fuck. I’ll be like . . .

  (he pretends to shoot his machine gun) What’s up ostrich, motherfucker? I’ll kill you, bitch!

  TOM: At ease with that shit.

  This is why everyone thinks you’re a fucking idiot, you know that?

  KEV: That’s what I’d do, anyway.

  TOM: Sergeant said no more killing animals unless they’re a danger.

  KEV: Sergeant is a pussy.

  Can I see it?

  TOM: It’s in my bag, Kev! Just get it!

  Kev darts to Tom’s canvas satchel and pulls out a gold-plated semiautomatic pistol.

  KEV: Holy shit, man.

  TIGER: I won’t lie. When I get hungry, I get stupid. I screwed up twelve years back. I just followed the scent, took a bite, and then, fhwipp!

  KEV: A gold fuckin gun.

  TIGER: This tranquilizer dart comes out of nowhere, and I wake up in Baghdad.

  KEV: Sweet ass.

  TIGER: So that was depressing.

  TOM: You happy now?

  KEV: Hell yeah!

  TIGER: Imagine, it’s your everyday routine . . . maybe you want to grab a bite, and then whack!

  KEV: Yeah, this is the shit right here.

  TIGER: Curtains.

  KEV: You swear to God this was really Saddam’s kid’s gun?

  TIGER: And you open your eyes and you’re in this concrete block.

  TOM: Uday.

  KEV: Who?

  TOM: Uday Hussein.

  KEV: Who’s that?

  TIGER: Tiger of the Tigris.

  TOM: Saddam’s kid.

  KEV: Damn.

  TIGER: When you’re this far from home, you know you’re never getting back.

  KEV: This really his gun?

  TOM: Yes it was his gun. Who else has a gold-plated gun?

  KEV: Damn.

  TOM: (looking at the tiger)

  Look at this poor bastard. He’s hungry.

  (to Tiger) You hungry, buddy?

  Tom hits the cage.

  TOM: Hey buddy!

  TIGER: Yeah, fuck you too.

  TOM: Goddamn! You hear that growl, baby? He’s starving.

  KEV: How you know for sure? How you know that it was Saddam’s kid’s gun?

  TOM: We raided the mansion. I was there, man. Two-day standoff.

  KEV: Fuuuck . . .

  TIGER: Anyhow, what if my cage had gotten hit? What if, Ka-boom, there’s a big gaping hole in my cage? What do I do then?

  I’m not gonna go traipsing around the city, like the lions did. No, fuck that.

  KEV: What mansion?

  TOM: The Hussein brothers’ mansion, jackass. Uday and Qusay. They were stacked with gold and shit. Everything in the house was made of gold, practically.

  TIGER: But I think I’d step out for a bit. Hang around the zoo. Hunt something. Kill all the people, kill everyone. Eat them.

  KEV: What else was gold?

  TOM: All their guns. Sergeant got the gold UZI.

  TIGER: Then I’d sleep a little. And then get up, kill some of the animals. Eat them. Sleep some more. But I guess at that point, I’d probably step out. Into the world. Not like the lions did, but still, have to admit, I’m curious.

  TOM: The toilet was made of gold.

  KEV: No shit. The shitter?

  TIGER: The world is probably a fascinating place.

  TOM: The toilet was gold. Sergeant dismantled the whole thing.

  I won the seat off him in poker.

  KEV: Y
ou won a toilet seat?

  TOM: Gold toilet seat. I won the gold toilet seat.

  KEV: Where is it.

  TOM: Somewhere real safe. I buried it.

  KEV: Where?

  TOM: Yeah, I’m gonna tell you, Kev. I’m gonna tell you.

  Somewhere safe.

  Between this gun and that toilet seat, I am set. Back home, I’ll be sitting pretty.

  KEV: Sitting pretty on a gold toilet seat!

  TOM: No, dude. I’m not going to use it. I’m gonna hit eBay with that shit, you know?

  KEV: Man.

  I haven’t seen nothing since I been here.

  TIGER: Zoo is hell. Ask any animal. Rather be shot up and eaten than be stuck in a fucking zoo ten thousand miles from where you were supposed to be. Like that polar bear they brought in six years ago who committed suicide. Some world.

  KEV: You got to kill Saddam’s kids, man. That’s awesome.

  TOM: Yeah, it was cool.

  TIGER: And the fucking lions! They get it all, right? Every captive animal’s dream: that a bolt of lightning comes down and zap! Frees you in an instant. There it was: freedom! And they blew it. They walked right into the mouth of the beast. Dumb sons of bitches. It’s too iffy strutting out into the world like that. I can see them: the eight Leos running through the streets of Baghdad, laughing their heads off. And then—Ka-boom—mowed down by artillery. Casualties. A pride of fucking lions.

  KEV: I ain’t seen shit. Nothing. Not one Iraqi did I get to kill! And I ain’t got my dick wet neither! You know back in Vietnam, there was so many Vietnamese bitches all over the place, and everyone got a piece.

  TOM: You weren’t even born yet.

  KEV: I’m just saying. Not much pussy in a Muslim country.

  TOM: Sergeant got some. Sergeant gets that shit all the time.

  KEV: You ever get any Iraqi pussy?

  TOM: No, man. Fuck that. I got values.

  Hand me that Slim Jim.

  Kev hands Tom a Slim Jim. Tom unwraps it and sticks it through the cage, trying to poke Tiger.

  TOM: Dumb bastard is so hungry, he don’t even know he’s hungry.

  KEV: Leave him alone. He’s barely got any fur left anyhow.

  TOM: Eat! Eat it up, man!

  TIGER: Don’t wanna eat.

  TOM: Come on, tough guy. Give me another growl.

  TIGER: Leave me alone.

  TOM: Atta boy. Get angry. Eat something.

  TIGER: (to audience) This is what I’m talking about. Pure stupidity. I’m a fucking tiger.

  Tom hits Tiger with the Slim Jim.

  TOM: Eat!

  Tiger bites Tom’s hand off.

  TOM: My hand!

  TIGER: (with mouth full) Yeah, your hand!

  TOM: My fucking hand!

  TIGER: Yum yum yum . . .

  Kev shoots the tiger repeatedly with the gold gun.

  TOM: Oh God, my hand!

  KEV: Tommy! Tommy, you okay?

  (beat) I shot him, Tommy! I shot him!

  Tom collapses and passes out.

  The tiger, now a ghost, stands outside the cage and can watch as Kev walks over to the cage, pointing the gun at the tiger’s dead body.

  KEV: I fucking shot him! I shot him! Oh my God I shot him!

  TIGER: Great. This is just wonderful. I get so stupid when I get hungry! Starts out with a tranquilizer dart. Ends with a bullet.

  KEV: He’s dead, Tommy! I killed him!

  Beat.

  TIGER: To die in captivity at the Baghdad Zoo. What a freaking life.

  KEV: Who’s king of the jungle now?

  TIGER: The lions, you jackass.

  KEV: Man down! Man attacked by fucking tiger animal!

  I’m gonna go get help, Tommy! Stay here! (gets on radio)

  Kev exits. Tiger stares at his own dead body.

  Beat.

  TIGER: But I guess I was always going to die here. I guess that was my fate, from the start.

  But I would have thought maybe I’d have one good day. A day like the Leos had. A brief foray out into the great wide open.

  And I’m bigger than them. I am bigger than those motherfuckers.

  So that’s what I look like. You go your whole life never knowing how you look. And then there you are. You get hungry, you get stupid, you get shot and die. And you get this quick glimpse at how you look, to those around you, to the world. It’s never what you thought. And then it’s over.

  Curtains.

  Ka-boom.

  Scene 2.

  Musa sits on the floor in an office, writing. There is a laptop to his side and a dictionary.

  He writes and then reads what he writes.

  MUSA: “Knock, knock.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Operation Iraqi Freedom.”

  “Operation Iraqi Freedom who?”

  “Operation Iraqi Freedom . . . bitch.”

  Musa stares at the words, shakes his head, frustrated, confused.

  He flips through the dictionary.

  MUSA: “Bitch . . . bitch . . . ”

  He finds the word. Reads it. Frowns and shakes his head and puts the book aside.

  Kev enters carrying a huge amount of combat gear.

  He puts it down and catches his breath. Musa stares at him. Kev stares back.

  MUSA: What is “bitch”?

  KEV: What?

  MUSA: “Bitch.” What is “bitch”?

  KEV: Are you calling me a bitch?

  MUSA: No. I am asking you what “bitch” means.

  KEV: So why you calling me a bitch, bitch?

  MUSA: I want to know what it means. “Bitch.” The word. I look it up in the dictionary.

  Kev starts donning his gear.

  KEV: You’re the terp.

  MUSA: Yes. My name is Musa.

  KEV: You going on the night raids?

  MUSA: Yes.

  KEV: You speak Iraqi?

  MUSA: Arabic.

  KEV: Arabic?

  MUSA: Iraqi Arabic.

  KEV: So why do you get a computer?

  MUSA: This computer?

  KEV: No, Habib, the other computer. The other computer in here.

  Beat. Musa looks at Kev, con fused.

  KEV: Yes, that computer!

  MUSA: This is my own computer. I bought it.

  Beat.

  KEV: It have a DVD player?

  MUSA: DVD? Yes.

  KEV: You got any movies?

  MUSA: Movies? Yes. I have a number of movies.

  KEV: What movies you got?

  MUSA: I have a number of movies. I have Fast and Furious.

  KEV: You got Fast and Furious?

  MUSA: Yes.

  KEV: I love that movie.

  MUSA: It’s a good film.

  KEV: Great fucking movie.

  MUSA: Yes.

  (beat) What is this word “bitch”?

  KEV: Why you keep asking me about “bitch”?

  MUSA: I know the word. It is derogatory, meaning the female of the dog. But I do not always understand its context. I have looked it up in the dictionary.

  KEV: So what’s it say in the dictionary? Jesus!

  MUSA: There are a number of definitions

  (reads) “The female of the dog.”

  “A spiteful or domineering woman.”

  “To complain of or about.”

  KEV: But it also means, you know, like you’re a faggot ass or something.

  MUSA: Again, this I don’t quite understand.

  KEV: You know, like if you’re a little pussy or something, or you’re being like, you know, a pussy. Then you’re being a bitch, you know?

  MUSA: No.

  KEV: Why do want to know anyway?

  MUSA: I speak English, but I don’t understand casual American phrases. So when I go with the soldiers, I listen for these phrases and I write them down so that I can better understand the way you speak. It’s also why I enjoy watching films.

  KEV: You learning English from The Fast and the Furious?
>
  MUSA: I watch The Fast and the Furious because of the cars. I like the cars.

  KEV: Yeah, they’re sweet ass.

  MUSA: But I overheard this the other day. It is a joke.

  Knock, knock.

  KEV: Who’s there?

  MUSA: Operation Iraqi Freedom.

  KEV: Operation Iraqi Freedom who?

  MUSA: Operation Iraqi Freedom, bitch.

  KEV: Dah. That’s good.

  MUSA: What does “bitch” mean in this instance?

  KEV: Well, we got these things called knock-knock jokes, right? And they’re ...

  MUSA: No I understand the convention of knock-knock jokes.

  KEV: So what’s your question? Jesus. I mean, if you’re such a smart guy.

  MUSA: Never mind.

  Kev finishes putting on his combat gear.

  KEV: Fuck yeah.

  Fuck yeah.

  MUSA: Why have you dressed in here?

  KEV: None of your business, Habib.

  MUSA: I mean, this is just office space. Just translators work in here. Why would you dress in here?

  KEV: None of your fucking business, I said.

  MUSA: Are you new?

  KEV: I’m not new.

  MUSA: No?

  KEV: I’ve seen action, boy.

  MUSA: Me too.

  KEV: Yeah, but I have a gun. You, what you do, you talk.

  MUSA: I help you do your job.

  KEV: You don’t help me with shit, Habib.

  MUSA: I see.

  KEV: That’s why I get this badass equipment, see? And that’s why you get a fucking laptop. You can boot up and watch Fast and Furious, but I live it, bitch. I live Fast and Furious.

  MUSA: Why amI a bitch?

  KEV: Just shut up.

  MUSA: What kind of action have you seen?

  KEV: What kind?

  MUSA: Yes.

  KEV: I killed a tiger.

  MUSA: You killed ... ?

  KEV: A tiger. At the zoo.

  MUSA: I see. Why?